


Bloodletting

by HellsPixie



Category: True Blood
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gore, Non-Canon at times, Sex, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsPixie/pseuds/HellsPixie
Summary: The proud and strong, Eric Northman is trapped in a situation from which there is little hope of escape. As his impending death creeps ever nearer an unlikely ally steps forward and becomes his protector. But as she struggles to keep both their demons at bay, something long since buried inside of Eric begins to rise up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posing on this site and I've been working on this story for quite sometime now.  
> I'm hoping the my writing skills haven't grown dull.  
> Please, let me know what you think.  
> Pixie

It was another dreadful Louisiana night. The kind of night where the rancid stench of the swamps and buoys clung to the streets and buildings like rotting shadows. It was clammy, and oppressively wet, cleaving to the skin as if the air itself had turned into a soggy, slathering blanket. Even Louisiana’s natives seemed unable to defend themselves from nights like these, the masses overflowing into any sanctuary that offered climate control. It was nights like these that Eric Northman loathed, nights like these that made him sick for the cooler weather of his homeland, the salty smell of the ocean, the spruce trees and the small pink flowers that grew in their mighty shadows. It was nights like these that made him almost regret agreeing to allow Godric to turn him. 

He watched, dispassionately, at the mob of black and chain clad bodies that rolled along his dance floor like a massive, mighty wave. Nights like these drove his sales up, the only reason he tolerated such horrid evenings. The insufferable humidity had made his patrons wear less than their usual attire. He was certain that there was some ridiculous human law against how little some of the women had on, most clad only in mesh and underwear. 

Many of these fishnet wrapped cows meandered passed him, hoping from him to take interest. It disgusted him how desperate they were, hoping for a momentary rush of pleasure, as if that would add meaning to their worthless lives. It had been well over two weeks since he last fed properly but even the insistent gnawing of his hunger wasn’t enough from him to partake in cattle in front of him. 

He wanted nothing more than to retire to his posh apartment and remain there until this appalling weather broke but his progeny, Pam, threatened him with the True Death and his participation in her next shopping venture if he left her to run the bar alone again. So here he sat, fuming and miserable; glaring darkly at a mesh encased cow that had hoofed too closely. 

Eric had already marked the night as uneventful and a waste of his time when he caught sight of a black haired beauty leaning against the edge of the bar, sipping her drink as she watched the people pulse around her. She wore a short black skirt and a blood red halter that clung just right to her slim form. Her lentil skin and almond shaped eyes lent her an exotic look that whispered of sultry nights. His hunger refused to be ignored now that such striking morsel had wandered into his view.   
Using his race’s gift, he suddenly appeared directly in front of her; catching the smell of cinnamon and saffron. Her large honey colored eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she regarded him with an appraising look. “You almost made me spill my drink.” She calmly stated, her voice sounding like smooth whiskey.   
Eric considered the benefits of simply glamouring her and taking her to his office for a quick lay and feed but quickly dismissed the idea. She was clearly a willing participant already and a few moments of witty banter would ease the dissatisfaction that the evening had so far provided. “And I would have made sure that you had a new one.” Eric said. She quirked a brow at that but offered him an enticing smile, “Audrey.” 

“Eric.” He stated simply, his cobalt eyes shifting to the pulse that rushed beneath her skin for a moment. She shifted slightly, allowing him again to smell that odd mix of cinnamon and saffron. “The same Eric that owns this place?” She asked, continuing once she caught his questioning looking. “I have a few friends who are completely obsessed with this place. Honestly, they’re completely obsessed with you. I can’t tell you the number of nights I’ve had to sit and listen to what they would do to you in very graphic and disturbing detail. But now, seeing you up close like this; I can see why.” 

He fought back the need to roll his eyes, “Perhaps then you’d be willing to join me in my office?” He was quickly losing interest in this exotic flower, regretting not just glamouring her from the start. Her hand slid up his arm, “Your office sounds a little too stuffy for my tastes but the back alley does sound a bit more interesting.”   
His hand shackled her wrist as he navigated his way towards the back exit, having lost patients for this charade. The early morning air was no less humid than that it had been at the start of the evening and it made his irritation rise even further. He spun the girl around, pinning her roughly against the coarse brick wall. 

His fangs came out at her panicked gasp. He struck then, uncaring that she felt only the pain. A whimpering plea bubbled up from her throat as he tore deeper into her flesh, sucking up mouthfuls of her blood. It tasted of long nights of drugs and alcohol, of unclean dirt and pollution. If Eric hadn’t been as hungry as he was, he would have spat the foul slop out.

The small tinkling of metal was his only warning before a heavy cowl of silver links was yanked over his head and face as a thick silver chain was wound around his throat yanking him away from his meal. He roared as more silver chains were thrown around him by several young men dressed in black and ski masks. 

His great strength quickly deserted him as a junky black van came screeching in to the alley and he was unceremoniously thrown into the back. A massive silver net was thrown over him as the humans hastily clamoring into the van which tore out of the alley leaving behind only tire tracks and the putrid smell of burnt rubber.   
“Holy shit!” The driver exclaimed, ripping off his mask, glancing in the review mirror at the hissing vampire. “Holy fucking shit. I don’t know how you managed to bag this one, Rey, but this is the old fucking vamper in that whole fucking place.” 

Audrey dabbed at the clotting blood at her neck, “Only the best for you, baby. We’re going to make so much fucking money off of this one. Did I do good, baby?” Her voice sounded whiney now, like a child seeking approval. 

The driver hauled her over to him, giving her a sloppy kiss before shoving her back into her seat. “Fuck yeah, you did. I can’t wait to get this fucker back to the house. You just wait, I’m going to fuck you shitless. I can’t wait to get a taste of that V.” 

The rage that welled in Eric was indescribable as the men around him roared around him in wild voices. The silver sucked any power and strength that he had, melting his flesh from his body. He vowed to every god that he knew that his insolent captors would soon feel the same agony. 

Minutes slid by excruciatingly until finally the van pulled to a lurching halt and he was yanked from the back. It took all of his captors to lug him into a house which he was hastily invited into. He was dropped onto a putrid, soggy patch of carpet as several people dashed out to stash the van. 

The girl left with the shrill promise of getting the boiler room ready, leaving him alone with just a single person who sat on his stomach; pushing the silver deeper into his charred flesh. “This is what you fucking get, vamper.” It was the driver, obviously the ringleader of poor mislead soon to be lifeless individuals. “This is what you get for thinking that your fucking kind so much fucking better than us humans. I’m going to fucking drain every last drop of your blood and then, do you know what’s going to be fucking left of you once I’m done? A fucking puddle of nothing. Not so fucking great now, are you, you fucking piece of undead shit?” 

The door opened and he was yanked up again carried precariously down a flight of groaning stairs as the men around him continued to taunt him in wild voices. The two at his shoulders stumbled over the last step, dropping him. Eric’s head bashed against the unforgiving concert floor, black dots flitted through his vision as his teeth cracked together. His captors just laughed as blood matted his tawny hair. 

They drug him by his ankles to a small closet of a room at the very back of the basement. He was force into a heavy wood chair, his arms and legs quickly bound with thick chains, more were slung over his hips and thighs, even his chest and shoulders were lashed against the rough wood back. Finally, the cowl was torn from his head, taking huge chunks of his skin with it. He thundered curses at them before a soiled rag was shoved into his mouth and a rough cloth was tied around his eyes.   
His captors were crazed as a thick needle was shoved into the crook of his elbow and several vials of his blood was siphoned from him. The needle was ripped out, leaving a gaping hole in wake as they surged out of the tiny room, all too ready to begin celebrating their victory.

Eric, numb and burning with pain, the rough and jagged wood digging into his blistered and blackened skin until it felt as if thousands of pins were stabbing into him, sat alone in that moldy, muggy little room, hearing the delighted sounds of the humans above him. 

And all he could think of was the sounds of horror he was going to tear from their throats.


	2. Chapter 2

Kyra tapped out a meaningless rhythm with the edge of her pencil as the computer was reading back her newly developed lesson plan for next week’s class back to her. This was the single aspect of her job that she simple despised; she and paperword have never gotten along. She only taught class once a week on Thursdays and the school still demanded a lesson plan for each week even though she had been teaching here for the last three years and the lessons had never changed. But she could understand, with the parents paying as much as they were for their children to attend such a prestigious private elementary school the principal had to make sure that he was getting the most from his teachers. Even from extremely part time elective teachers such as herself.

Satisfied with the lesson plan, she told the computer to e-mail it to the principal before gathering her things into her canvas messenger bag. She stood, wincing when her back snapped and popped in protest. Kyra was carefully sliding from behind the old wooden desk when the door to her classroom opened, briefly allowing the noise from the hallway to filter in. Small, hesitant footsteps shuffled forward a few paces before stalling.

 “Um, Ms.-  Ms. Dane?” A tiny voice asked from the back of the room. Kyra turned her head towards the voice as she quickly tried to place it; it didn’t belong to one of her students. The poor girl sounded as if she was about to break down into tears at the first loud noise she heard. “Yes?” Kyra prompted very gently, leaning back against the front of her desk. She set her bag on the floor and gave the child her full attention.

Petite feet were shuffled nervously as the girl toyed with hem of her crisp white uniform shirt. “Um, you teach my brother, Jo-Joel, how to play the guitar and my mo-momma said that it helped him m-make friends. I was hoping that you’d help me-me learn to so I-I could have some too.”

Kyra felt her chest tighten as the small thing stumbled through her request, hearing how close to tears the poor girl was. Any aspect of a child that wasn’t deemed normal by its peers was instantly ostracized, she instantly knew how badly this girl must be teased for her slight stutter.

 “Your name is Helen, right? Joel talks about you a lot during his lessons. Your brother loves you very much.” The girl nodded, her clothes ruffling softly at the slight movement. Kyra moved slowly, the tip of her shoe brushing the leg of a chair in the front row before she sat down.  She patted the plastic chair beside her, waiting for Helen to sit. “I want to make sure that you understand something, Helen. Just because you learn to play an instrument doesn’t automatically mean that you’ll have friends. Playing an instrument gives a person confidence; it gives a sense of pride in themselves. It’s that pride and confidence stays with you and people will begin to see you differently but I can’t promise that you’ll have friends just because you know how to play something. Do you still want to learn?”

Helen nodded more vigorously, “I-I want to.”

“Perfect, I can’t wait to get started.” Kyra said, touching Helen’s small hand. “Here’s what you need to do for me. I want you to talk to your mom and dad to night at dinner, okay? Have them call me and we’ll figure out a time for us to meet. Do you know what you’d like to learn to play?” Helen shook her head. “Okay, well, we’ll just spend our first lesson figuring that out. I’m very excited to get started.”

The final bell rang out, echoing painfully loud throughout the empty room. Kyra helped Helen to her feet before tentatively stooping to retrieve her bag, having cracked her head against the edge of her desk far too many times.  She walked with Helen out into the hall, listening as the girl excitedly promised to speak with her parents, waving good-bye as Helen dashed down the now crowded hall. Kyra couldn’t help but smile as she started making her way towards the parking lot, waving and smiling at students who called out to her.

Humid air greeted her once she finally shoved the heavy glass door open. She wrinkled her nose at the weather as she stepped off to the side and pulled out her cell phone to call for a cab. Her roommate, Momo, had picked up a shift at his job and wouldn’t be able to pick her up as usual. The call to the cab company was brief, the operator promising her no longer than a ten minute wait. Kyra sank onto one of the stone planters that lined the front walkway.

She enjoyed listening to the small snip-bits of conversations she caught from the students as they walked passed her. Many paused to say good-bye or talk about next week’s class before dashing away to meet with their waiting parents, anxious to begin their afternoons. Soon, she was alone with the weak breeze that attempted to quell the late afternoon sun. Her phone chirped, breaking the silence. Kyra answered it quickly, hoping that it was Momo. “Hello?”  

“Ky?” Her aunt’s shrill voice snapped through the speaker, “Ky, I’m sorry to call you when you just got out of school but I was hoping that you had seen Audrey lately. I’ve been calling her for days now and I still haven’t heard anything back.”

Kyra let out a soft sigh, pitching the bridge of her nose. Her cousin had grown out of control and terribly wild not long after Kyra had moved in with her family nearly fifteen years ago. In and out of work and rehab centers, Audrey was constantly making her poor mother worry. “Sorry, Aunt Sarah, but I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Not since she got fired from the gas station.”

“She hasn’t been home in days. I’m really beginning to worry. Can you think of any friends she might be with? Anyone at all?”

“Maybe she got back together with Malcolm.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus, I hope not.” Her aunt exclaimed sounding terrified at the mere thought. Malcolm had been in the grade above Kyra in high school before dropping out his junior year and had been Audrey’s on again-off again boyfriend for years. He was well known for partying and drug dealing and had gotten Audrey arrested a few times because of it. Malcolm had just gotten out of prison a few months ago for being in possession of a massive amount of cocaine and V.

She sighed again as her taxi pulled up. She stood, swiping at the back of her pants with her free hand before making her way towards the car. “I’ll swing by Malcolm’s house, Aunt Sarah, and see if he has seen her.”

“Would you mind? I hate asking that of you.”

“It’s no trouble.” Kyra lied as she slid onto the cracked, uncomfortable back seat. She gave the driver the address to Malcolm’s house before returning to the conversation. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I find anything out.” She had to promise her aunt a call the moment she left and that she would be safe before she was allowed to hang up.

Kyra leaned back against the seat, glaring up at the ceiling. She loved her cousin, she truly did, but there were times that she seriously just wanted to beat some sense into the girl. She and Kyra were extremely close back when they were younger, but, now, it was like she wasn’t even sure who Audrey was. Malcolm had waltz into Audrey’s life and had completely ruined it. And it caused her aunt nothing but pain and suffering.

Her aunt had taken her in after the death of her parents and Kyra loved the sweet woman like a mother. Aunt Sarah and Audrey had invited her into their home with open arms and she adored them for it. It was just the three of them and everything had been perfect until they had entered high school. There Audrey caught the attention of Malcolm and their happy lives took a devastating turn for the worst and it had stayed that way. But she still loved her cousin fiercely, no matter how many life destroying choices she made.

The cab slowed to a stop, the driver turning in his seat. “You going to be all right, miss? I can stay if you’d like.” Kyra flashed him a smile as she fished a twenty out of her wallet. “No, I’m sure I’ll end up being here a while, unfortunately. Thank you for your concern though, sir. Are we directly in front of the house?”

He squinted at her as he took the bill. “Yeah, on the right side.” She smiled at him again as she scooted out the door. “Keep the change.” She shut the door on him, knowing what his next question was going to be.

Kyra listened as the rattling taxi drove off, slowly picking her way up the cracked and broken walk way to the unstable front steps, minding the broken board just in front of the door. She pounded on the clap board door as loudly as she could possible manage, “Malcolm, Malcolm, open up.”

She continued to pound her fist against the door until it was yanked open. Audrey stood grumbling in the doorway smelling like body odor and liquor. “For the love of fucking God, Ky, would you shut the fuck up?” Kyra nailed her cousin with a contemptuous glare before shoving past her into the small, dilapidated house, nearly gagging at the smell as her cousin slammed the door shut. It reeked like body fluids, cheap beer, mold, and blood.

 Audrey shuffled into the stamp size kitchen, swearing as she dug around in the refrigerator, pulling out a sweating can of beer. “The hell you doing here, Ky?” She asked, taking a deep swig. Kyra crossed her arms, “Are you seriously asking me that, Audi? You’re mom called me today freaking out.”

“Mom is such a fucking spazz.” Audrey complained, leaning back against the chipped plastic counter. Kyra chewed at her lower lip, fighting back the need to slap her cousin. “It’s been days since she last heard from you. The last time that happened, the police found you choking on your own vomit in a bus station bathroom. I think she has the right to be concerned, don’t you?”

Audrey snorted, taking another drink. “Why do you keep holding that over my head? I told you guys that I would never do that again and I haven’t. I have everything under fucking control.”

“Do you, Audi?” Kyra scoffed, “Do you really?” Audrey shoved passed her into the living room with a vicious snarl, beer sloshing on to the threadbare, filthy carpet.

 “The fuck does that mean?”

“I can smell the drugs, Audi.” Kyra stated, waving a hand at the chaotic living room. “The whole house reeks like it. You can’t tell me that you have everything under control. Don’t you get how freaking scared we are for you. Don’t you understand? You almost died! I don’t want to you to end up like that again.”

“It’s not going to be like that again.” Audrey promised, the venom leaving her voice. “I ran into Malcolm again a few days ago and one thing ran into another and we ended up back here. I should’ve called though. Are we good?”

Kyra exhaled heavily before holding her arms out, her cousin instantly pulling her into a brief hug. “I love you, Audi, I really do.” She stated when her cousin stepped back. “But I know you’re lying to me.”

“You and your fucking lie-detector bullshit.” Audrey growled. “It seriously fucking pisses me off, Ky.”

“All you have to do is tell me the truth. What is actually going on, Audi? You told me last month you were done with Malcolm and now I find you hiding out at his house. Be honest, you’ve been seeing him this whole time, haven’t you? Why do you feel like you have to do nothing but lie to us? We just want to help you.” Kyra said, inhaling deeply to try and keep her anger at bay, instantly regretting it when her senses were overwhelmed by the stench of the house. She rubbed roughly at her nose, “Why do I keep smelling blood?”

Audrey went very still, “Charlie cut himself last night.”

“You’re lying,” Kyra stated, sending her cousin a dark look. She wandered into the kitchen, mindful of the random, discarded cluttered that lined the floor of the house. The smell was stronger near the door off to the side of the kitchen which, she assumed, led to the basement. She pulled the door open, wincing as the hinges shrieked in protest. The smell amplified, washing over her until she could taste it. Audrey’s hand clamped over her wrist, “Don’t go down there.”

“Why?” She could feel her cousin’s panic beating at her. “Audi, what’s down there?” Audrey just shook her head, trying to pull her away from the doorway. “Nothing, the steps are really bad, like all broken and stuff. I don’t want you to fall. Just don’t go down there.”

Kyra almost allowed herself to be pulled away when she heard the clanking of metal and the smell of cooked meat assaulted her. She yanked her hand away, cautiously starting down the steep stairs which groaned and creaked threateningly under her slight weight. Audrey was right after her, pleading for her to go back. She tripped over the broken bottom stair, nearly smashing into the slimy cinderblock wall. The smell of meat and blood was so strong she had to cover her nose, the sound of metal louder. She moved towards the sound, stumbling over piles of festering trash. Her fingers trembled when they brushed against the far wall, lightly traveling over its slick surface until she found a door.

Audrey was nearly sobbing now, tugging on the back of her shirt. “Please just leave it alone, Ky. Please, please just go back up stairs. There’s nothing down here. Please, I hate it down here. Let’s just go back up stairs. Please? I’ll call mom. Please, Ky, just stop. He’s going to be so fucking mad. Please, Ky, just leave it alone.”

She ignored her cousin’s babbling, forcing the door to swing open. Chains rattled, tugging restlessly against wood, and subdued snarl filled the minuscule room barely registering over the hiss of the water heater. It was silent then, expect for the begging sobs of her cousin. Kyra took a step forward, her outstretched hand coming in contact with a roughly hewed, stout wooden chair. Blood roared in her ears when the tips of her fingers brushed a thick linked chain, swallowing her rising terror she allowed her fingers to travel along the splintering wood until they skimmed across marble cool flesh.

The muted roar that suddenly sounded shattered the unnatural silence. The chains rattled as a mighty force was thrown against them, the smell of sizzling flesh exploding, filling the small cell. Kyra screamed, tearing herself away, her back slamming painfully into a metal shelving unit, she wedged herself between it and the wall as the roaring continued and she struggled to breathe.   

Her heart was still pounding against her ribs when she finally managed to pull away from the wall a few seconds later, holding a trembling hand to her throat. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Audi, what have you done?” Kyra demanded. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into? What the hell is this?”

“Ky, please-“Audrey started but Kyra wouldn’t let her continue. “You knew! You knew that this man was down here. My God, Audi! How long has he been chained down here? What the hell is going on? We have to get him out of here. He needs to be taken to a hospital.”

She reached out, finding the chain strapping his arm down. He snarled at her but she continued to look for the end of the chain, trying to pull it from him. “I’m sorry if I’m hurting you. Calm down. I’m going to get you out of here.” Kyra cooed softly to him, “I’m going to get you help. Just hold still.”

“No!” Audrey cried, shoving her away from him before she could pull the chain off, sending her crashing into the rusted shell of a dryer. “You can’t do that.”

Kyra tried to force herself back to the man but Audrey kept herself between them, shoving at her shoulders. “Audi, get the hell off of me!”

“No, you can’t let him go.”

“Get the hell out of my way.”

“He’s a vampire, Ky!” Audrey yelled, “You can’t let him go. He’ll kill us if you do.”

Kyra stilled, carefully extracting herself from her cousin’s hold. “A vampire. He’s a vampire. Malcolm has a vampire chained up in his basement.” Audrey was nodding wildly when Kyra slapped her as hard as she possible could. “And you knew! You knew that he was down here. Malcolm was torturing and draining him and you freaking knew! What in the name of God is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is going on down here?” Malcolm thundered, storming into the already cramped room. While Charlie, Brice, and Vance, his cronies, watched with bloodshot eyes. He shoved Audrey towards the door, before crowding her cousin with his beefy form. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his prize was still restrained while she glared death at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my fucking house, bitch?”

Kyra shoved at his shoulder, trying to move him away from her. “Looking for my cousin, you troglodyte. What the hell is going on here? What the hell have you done to this poor man?”

“None of your fucking business, whore. Get the fuck out of here before you get hurt.” 

“I’m not leaving until you let him go.” Kyra snarled, shoving at him again. “How the hell did you think that this was okay? I’m calling the cops.”

Malcolm’s backhanded her, sending her flying into vampire, her head bouncing off of the thick wood with a sickening crunch. Dazed, she couldn’t fight back when his catcher mitt hand fisted in her shirt, yanking her up. “Go ahead, bitch. Vance’s dad is head of police and half of the force is buying what I’m selling. They’ll fucking lock you up before they do me.” He threw her into Charlie who wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands to her sides.

“What are you going to do?” She demanded as Malcolm knelt next to the snarling vampire, the stars finally dissipating from her vision. “I’m going to fucking get the rest of his blood and then stake his ass. Do you know how much a vial of this blood is fucking going for? Eight hundred a fucking vial. I’m going to make over a hundred grand off of this fucking vamper.”

The vampire snarled as Malcolm inserted the IV into his arm. Kyra tried to shake off her stupor as her mind reeled for a way to stop this. Audrey had gone numbly silent while the other two egged Malcolm on. “Wait,” She commanded, “Why kill him when you could get more blood from him if you just kept him down here a little longer?”

Malcolm paused, glaring at her. “What the fuck are you talking about? Everyone knows that you can only fucking drain a fanger once.”

“That’s-That’s because they take too much.” Kyra stated, “Bloodletting, it was an ancient practice of taking small amounts of blood from a person to maintain health, balance, and peace. It would cause people to have stronger, cleaner, and richer blood, keeping them from getting illnesses. By taking only small amounts from him at a time you’ll be causing the remaining blood in his system to become better.

“I had to take a biology class in college and my professor said that vampires can regenerate their blood but they do it at a much slower rate than humans. The reason that they need to feed is to help this process along. If you make sure that you didn’t take too much blood from him and you kept him alive, you’d be able to charge more because his blood will become better and he’ll be able to produce more of the pure blood. Which means more money for you. It’s in your best interest to keep him alive.”

Kyra prayed that he bought her lies; that they were as stupid as she believed them to be. Malcolm was quiet, trying hard to figure out what the right move was. “You did say that Dallas was paying big for good V.” Vance reminded him, already imagining all that money. “So we leave this cocksucker alive for a little while longer and rake it the real green.”

“Yeah, but he’s already starting to fucking smell and he’s so fucking loud.” It was the only excuse Malcolm could conjure, the idea of more money quickly becoming all he could think about.

She pounced, “I’ll take care of him for you. You won’t have to deal with him again. I’ll do everything; I’ll come over every night and make sure that he doesn’t bother you, that he stays quiet. I’ll make sure that everything is done.”

He stood, yanking the needle out, shoving it near her eye. “If this doesn’t fucking work and I don’t get my fucking money, I will fuck you and stake you out in the swamp for the fucking gators. The blindfold stays fucking on and he doesn’t get fed. Not blood, not fucking True Blood. Are we fucking clear, whore?”

Kyra swallowed, “Yes, I understand perfectly.” Charlie dropped her as Malcolm shoved passed them. She slowly stood, wiping her shaking hand against her now dirty jeans. Audrey curled herself around her, running her fingers through Kyra’s hair, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Ky, because if you’re lying, I won’t be able to stop him from killing you.” She softly whispered before turning to follow Malcolm up the stairs. Kyra waited until she heard the basement door shut before she let out the breath she had been holding, feeling as if she had almost been hit by a car.

She slowly made her way back into the tiny, windowless cell; kneeling down next to the vampire, matching sure she didn’t actually touch him. “I’m going to do everything that I possibly can to get you out of here. I know it’s a lot to ask for but, please, trust me.”     

 

          


	3. Chapter 3

“You want to run this by me one more time?” Momo demanded, nearly spitting out his drink. He stared at Kyra from across the breakfast island that separated their kitchen from the living room. The previous evening she had called him for a ride from Malcolm’s house. She practically dove into the passenger seat, looking as if she had survived a brush with death. It wasn’t until they had gotten home that he saw that her face was bruised and her lower lip was split. She had promised him an explanation in the morning before escaping to her room.

He knew Kyra, he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders and knew what she was doing but that wasn’t enough to stop him from worrying about her. She was like family to him, the only family he had in the world and he loved her dearly. He knew that if he had been interested in women he would have been madly in love with her and they probably would have had two kids by now.

In his mind, Kyra was perfect. She was sickly stubborn, sassy with a healthy dose of spunk, but way too naïve and innocent to the world around her.. Kyra was the kind of person that was never too busy for somebody else, always putting her own needs below those around her, kind and honest. She never forgot a person’s name or any minor detail about, knowing exactly what to say or do to make them feel like they were the center of the universe. She was wickedly intelligent, absorbing knowledge and information as if it was air. Kyra spoke several languages and could play an instrument she picked up.

She was spectacular.  

Kyra sipped on her coffee, fiddling with the mug before setting it down. “Look, he was going to kill him, I just couldn’t stand there and let it happen. That vampire is completely innocent, I had to do something.”

“But, Ky, if Malcolm finds out that you lied to him he will kill you.” He offered, concern weighing his words. She nodded, “I know, that’s why I’m going to feed him True Blood until I can figure out a way to get him out of there. It’s what any decent person would do.”

“No, anybody else would have called the cops and let them sort it out then gone to sleep with a clear conscience. But, as usual, you get yourself involved is something that totally doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Kyra moved out of the kitchen, dropping onto an overstuff armchair in the living room, her coffee carefully cradled in her hands. “It’s wrong, Momo.” He sat on the coffee table, putting a large hand on her knee, “I’m not arguing that, Ky, all I’m saying is that it’s dangerous and I’m worried about you. I would lose it if anything were to happen to you. Like rubber room, white jacket lose it. You’re the only thing on this horrid little marble that I enjoy.”

She smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “I love you too, Momo. But you’re not going to guilt me out of doing this. Tonight, after all of my lessons, I need you to pick up some True Blood and to take me there. I will not let him die, Mo, not when I can do something to stop it.”

A knock at their door cut off his reply and she let in the first of many music lessons she had scheduled for the day. The small boy wandered into the apartment struggling under a cello that was larger than he was while Kyra chatted with the mother about pick-up times and payments before ushering the boy into the small soundproof music room the he and Kyra had constructed.

He sighed, running a hand over his face before straightening up the kitchen and gathering his workout gear. He was planning on a long intense workout in the complex’s gym with the hope of burning off some of this anxiety.

 

* * *

  

The darkness slowly lifted from Eric’s mind as he came back into consciousness. Despite the cleverness of the blood bag last night, Malcolm had nearly drained him a few hours ago; leaving only a trace amount of blood left in his body. Even now, he could feel his body struggling to pump the remaining amount through his system. He knew he wouldn’t survive another draining. His hunger was ravenous, his entire being ignited with the demanding urge to feed. Even the thought of a True Blood, as much as he despised them, was enough to make him moan.

Eric heard the front door open, the weak floor boards creaking under light footsteps. There was no hollering, no crazed voices, no loud music or sounds of drinks being opened which meant that his captors hadn’t returned.

“Ky, baby girl, light of my life, you know I love you, right?” A strong masculine voice suddenly filled the house, the floor shaking as he stepped into the house.

 There was a small pause before she answered, “You’re not talking me out of this, Momo, so don’t even waste your sweet-talking. You’re just annoying me with that nonsense.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to make you understand how big of a cluster fuck you managed to get yourself into. The same cluster fuck that you’ve now drug me into. Hell, we invite one more person and we’ll have ourselves a giant nougaty cluster fuck party covered in insanity sprinkles.” Momo continued to grouse as the voices slowly moved through the small dwelling.

The basement door let out its usual squealing protest as it was forced open. “Oh my God, Mo, the only reason I brought you along was to do the heavy lifting. Once you’re done you can leave. You’re hardly involved.”

“Great, so I’m nothing more to you than a mule, hauling your contraband.” Eric could hear those damned steps threatening to give way as the man began his decent.

“Oh, Momo, you’re more than just a mule to me.” She offered, “You’re also my ride. That’s an important job, you know.”

“Gee, thanks. You’re a bitch, you know that?” Momo stated simply, but the love in his voice betrayed how deeply he cared for her. There was a small scream as a body hit the cement floor. “Holy crap, Ky, are you alright?”

“I hate this freaking place.” She snapped, “What the hell did I slip on? You know what? No, I don’t want to know. Seriously, who the hell lives this way?”

Something heavy was set on the floor just outside of the door. “Let’s just leave then, Ky. You don’t have to do this. It’s not your responsibility to save this guy.”

“Yes it is. What kind of person would I be if I walked away for this?”

“Just like everyone else.”

She sighed, “Then everyone is wrong, Momo, this is wrong. What is being done to that man is wrong and I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to do something about it. And if walking away from someone who is in need and in as much pain as that man is, if that is what it takes for me to be like everyone else, then, I’m sorry, but I’d rather be different.

“Now, I can handle the rest from here. Go ahead a get out of here, Mo. I really don’t want you anymore involved in this.” She slowly drug whatever it was in front of the door out of the way before it was forced open. “This stupid bucket weighs a ton. Just how much did you buy?”

The single bare light bulb hanging above Eric’s head flickered into life as delicate footsteps wandered into the cell dragging something behind her. “Holy Mary mother of God,” the man exclaimed as he took in the heinous scene.

“Don’t stare,” she stated over her shoulder. “You’re being rude. Get your gorilla butt over here and help me lift this thing. I think the bottom shelf is broken.”

Momo edged his way along the side, keeping the vampire in his sights. It tracked him as he moved, following his progression with predatorily accuracy. Even though the vampire’s eyes were covered, Momo had no doubt that his gaze were fixed on him. Slowly, the vampire’s attention shifted to Kyra as she struggled to lift the twenty gallon drum he had brought from work. He wanted to take her away from this dank chamber, away from the danger it was exuding.

“Here,” he said, his hands gently pushing hers away from the handle, his gaze still locked on the vampire. “Let me.” The shelving unit creaked, swaying dangerously under the new weight but eventually settled.  

Kyra wiped her hand on her jeans before shoving a stray curling strand of hair from her face. “You had better take off before Malcolm and the others show back up.” She suggested, “I’ll call for a cab later.”

“Ky,” He started but she cut him off with a tight smile, “Momo, honey, go.” He exhaled heavily before pressing a kiss against her cheek. “Call me and I’ll come and get you, don’t call a cab, call me. Stay safe, baby girl.”

Momo walked out, pausing at the door to glance back. Kyra was leaning against the wall, twisting her fingers. She looked so unsure, but he knew her well enough to know there was no talking her out of this. Even if it killed her, she was going to help that creature. He closed his eyes, turning away and walking back upstairs, praying the entire way. Because only God and his angels were all that could save his Kyra now.

Kyra didn’t move until she heard the front door shut. Suddenly alone, in this tiny room, the vampire seemed larger than life. She turned away for a moment, snapping the lid off of the barrel to pull one of the many bottles of True Blood out. A smile fluttered across her lips when her fingers brushed against a pile of straws. Momo, as always, had thought of everything.

She cracked open the bottle, tossing the cap back inside the barrel before making sure the lid was shut tightly. “Mr. Vampire, sir,” She said hesitantly, setting the bottle on top of the dryer. “I have some True Blood, I’m sure that you’re starving.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t move and it unnerved her. She knew the basics of vampires but nothing could have prepared her for this. It was as if she was talking to a corpse, a terrifyingly powerful, hungering corpse. She should have been scared, but she just wasn’t. All she felt was the overwhelming need to save him.

His hunger assaulted her, his rage and pain slamming against her like physical blows. Kyra also felt as his great strength seeped out of him, weakness and frailty taking its place. She could feel him dying.

She wanted to free him, to let loose those horrid chains but he was so weak she was certain he wouldn’t survive if she had. No, she needed to wait until Malcolm and the others left for Dallas in a few weeks, and then there would be enough time for her to get help and for him to regain his strength before Malcolm came for him again.  She just needed to keep him alive for a few more weeks.

Kyra moved slowly forward, continuing to talk in a low, gentle voice; as if she were comforting a child. “I’m going to take the gag out, okay?” Her fingers brushed his cheek. He yanked away with a snarl, the chains rattled as his flesh burned.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I’m sorry. I-I don’t see very well, the light in here is really bad. Trust me; I’m not trying to take advantage of you.” Kyra pulled the rag from his mouth, wrinkling her nose at its horrid smell. She tossed it into the corner behind the water heater. His fangs were out and she knew, by his snarling breaths, that he wanted to sink them into her.

“I’m, um, I’m going to take the blindfold off too, okay? I can’t leave it off but while it’s just the two of us it’ll be alright. I know you don’t want me touching you but bear with me until I get it off then I’ll back up and give you some space.” She waited until he gave the slightest of nods before trailing the tips of her fingers along his face until they brushed the rough burlap cloth. With extreme tenderness she slipped off of him, before retreating.

Eric hissed as the minimal light blinded him, making bloody tears well in his eyes. He focused on the cracked, caving cement floor until the bursts of light faded from his vision. Slowly, he raised his gaze until it found her.

He had expected her to be a copy of the girl from his bar, the whore that had started all of this, being that they were related; but he was surprised to find that she looked nothing like her cousin. She was a few inches shorter, lithe and athletic with lush curves that her rail thin cousin didn’t possess.

Her hair was loose curls that hung to her waist and was the color of dark wine. Three scars marred the right side of her face, running from her hairline before curling beneath her jaw. The silvery imperfections blaringly noticeable against her sun kissed skin that seemed to glow in the weak light as sweeping cheek bones and full blush colored lips enhanced an already ethereal face. Her gray eyes seemed to swirl like pale smoke caught behind glass, as she stared back at him; absentmindedly brushing at a few persistent stray curls that continuously fell over her eyes.  

Eric had seen far more beautiful women in his long existence but there was something about this girl demanded attention, something that wouldn’t be ignored. He had expected her to be cowering, that her pervious courage would abandon her in the face of his wrath; but she wasn’t, instead she stood calmly, regarding him silently. He could smell no fear from her, no terror; instead all he could smell was a drugging mixture of vanilla and cinnamon.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, delicate fingers sliding around the bottle. “I have a bottle of True Blood if you want it. Its O negative, the clerk at the convenience store said it was the most popular. I hope that’s okay because I think Momo said he bought like six packs or something like that.”

He watched, unblinkingly, as she moved towards him with an almost feline grace; her steps slow, virtually measured as if she was uncertain where exactly where he was. The toe of her sneaker brushed the leg of the chair, her fingers skimming his arm before she raised the straw to his lips.

His senses exploded at the smell of the synthetic blood until his fangs throbbed. The embarrassment of being fed like a child didn’t stall his reaction; he latched onto that absurd little straw. It tasted like ashes in his mouth but Eric didn’t care, swallowing it down as quickly as he could. He drained three bottles until his debilitating hunger eased. Eric felt a small percent of his vigor returning to him when he finally leaned back, exhaling unnecessarily.

She stepped back, sliding the third empty bottle into the barrel, sliding the lid back in place before leaning against the dryer. “Feeling a little better?”

“I would feel a lot better without the chains.” It was the first time he had spoken and his voice was deep and rich, the smallest hint of an accent coloring the words, so smooth, like dark chocolate, it sent sparks flaring down her spine and into her veins. No one should be allowed to possess a voice like that.

“You know I can’t do that. I really want to but-”

Eric snarled at her, “You fucking bitch! You think you’re so different, so much better than they are but you’re not. I will rip you apart just to watch you bleed.”

Her eyes flared, darkening until they looked like storm clouds. “Okay, first, Mr. scary vampire killer, don’t compare me to those degenerates, that’s not nice. Secondly, I promised I would get you out of here alive and I fully intend to keep my word. If you had let me finish before rudely threatening maiming, I would have told you that in your current state you’re too weak to get away from them even if you were to drain me. I need help to get you out of here and I refuse to get Momo involved in this; so, I was hoping that you had some friends, but that hope was pretty much dashed by that charming display of personality.”

She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Malcolm and the others are leaving for Dallas in a little over two weeks with your blood. They’re making a huge deal about it and everyone is going. They’ll be gone long enough that I can get you out of here and you’ll have time to regain your strength so you’ll be ready when they come for you. And they will. Give me a little time, and I will get you out of here.”

“Two weeks.” Eric agreed.             

  

 


	4. Chapter 4

The following week quickly fell into a routine for Kyra. She would spend her days with her students, her lessons and class keeping her daylight hours full. Her nights she would spend with the vampire until the early morning hours. But it was beginning to take a toll on her, the sacrificed sleep and all the missed meals, she felt weak and foggy; as if she was running on nothing but fumes. Still, Kyra refused to allow her fatigue show, not wanting to concern an already irate Momo. His trepidation over her nightly activities had risen to an unhealthy level; he had become her shadow every moment he spent with her. Honestly, it was beginning to annoy her, but she understood his over-protectiveness; it was comforting that he was only a phone call away from becoming her white knight in a charging dinged up Toyota. 

It was Friday, the solitary day of the week which she didn’t schedule lessons in the hope of having a day to herself. She had slept far later than usual, not waking until after noon. It had been a productive day, despite her completely drained energy reserves. She entertained herself by paying bills and running the few errands she could without Momo’s assistance. Kyra had allowed herself a short trip to the more prestigious instrument store, Fortuna, as a personal reward for making through the week without a single, stress induced temper-tantrum. 

Fortuna specialized in high quality instruments, complete with heart stopping price tags. The owner, Mr. Von Chillo, had been gracious enough to donate learner instruments to her students with the understanding that she was to recommend his store to the parents as their children began advancing. Kyra was certain that he was able to keep his lights on for the last few years off of the heavy wallets of families she had sent to him. Von Chillo was a large weasel of a man but she was begrudgingly grateful every time she stepped into her music room at home. 

Kyra was in desperate need of a new personal violin, the dreadfully cheap, second hand one she had bought nearly a decade ago was beginning to show its age, the sound it produced was warped no matter what she tried to revive it. Fortuna was not the place for her or her modest budget but it did provide the distraction she needed. Her spirit lifted considerably as she browsed the gleaming hues and it practically soared when she was allowed to test a finely tuned masterpiece; earning her a rousing applause from the other customers when she finished. But she quickly returned to reality when she foolishly asked for the price. She amused herself with the thought of selling body organs to make up the difference between the asking price and the current status of her checking account as she made her way back to the apartment.   
The sun was just beginning to set as she stepped into the cool apartment, Momo would be home in less than an hour, leaving her just enough time to shower before her date with her captive vampire this evening. Kyra moved as quickly as she dared, knowing that if she rushed she would just end up as in an ungraceful heap on the floor, gathering a pair of comfy yoga pants and a muted green tank top. 

Her thoughts were on her vampire as she slid under the scalding spray. Somewhere during the long hours with him, Kyra mused, she had stopped thinking of him as ‘the vampire’ and starting considering him as ‘her vampire’. It wasn’t because she felt any ownership over him but instead bore a wealth of affection every time her thoughts turned to him. 

The nights were filled mostly with her talking; he was about as forthcoming with information as statue, and would only comment rarely. She finally managed to get his name from him only a few days ago, she suspected he only gave in because he was sick of the unique adjectives she would add to Mr. Vampire whenever she would address him. 

He provided the name, Eric Northman; Google provided the rest. The website she had finally navigated to was for the local paper and had been an interview of local vampire business owners; it offered a surprising amount of information, ultimately shedding some light on the mystery of her vampire. He was a prominent business man, owning a successful club on the outskirts of the city, and was over a thousand years old. Mr. Northman had been a Viking warrior before he had been turned, the last of a royal line. 

Kyra was desperate to talk to him about his exceptionally long life, but somehow she was painfully aware that the subject was off limits. Besides, she rather enjoyed the impromptu game that had sprung up between them. She would ask a question, he would remain silent as she quickly answered herself with wildly bizarre retorts for him until he relented and supplied his response. Mainly, she did it as a way to entertain him, trying to alleviate some miniscule amount of his suffering.   
The sound of the front door shutting snapped her from her reveries and she hastily finished her shower, fighting her clothes over her damp skin before fashioning her soaking curls into a braid. She was roughly toweling the thick rope of hair as she walked from the steamy bathroom, the sudden chilly air causing goose-bumps to prickle along her bare arms. 

Momo was in the kitchen, the smell of confectioners’ sugar and flour tickling her senses as she neared him. “How was work?” Kyra asked, slipping onto one of the stools which were housed under the breakfast bar. He spun around from the open refrigerator with a sharp inhale, “Christ on a cracker, Ky, I’m going to put a freaking bell on you.” 

“How did you not hear the bathroom door open? “ She laughed, “Or the shower, for that matter?” 

“Not all of us have super ears, baby girl. Besides, you move like a freaking ninja. I totally wouldn’t be surprised to come home one day and find you hanging from the ceiling, dressed all in black and throwing knives at flies.” He snorted, returning to his hunt through the fridge. “And to answer your original question, if the McPherson bride calls one more time to change her cake, I’m going to go Donkey Kong on her fat ass and start throwing shit at her.” 

He shut the refrigerator door with a disgusted sigh, “I give, I’ll just order some take out. You ready to go?” Kyra nodded, hopping off the stool, “Let me just grab my purse.” She maneuvered to her room, tossing the soggy towel into the washroom as she passed it. Her fingers slid along her desk until they bumped against the canvas bag, she checked quickly that everything was there before meeting Momo at the door, sliding on a pair of ballet flats as he locked the door behind her. 

The trip was pleasant as they filled the small car with laughing conversation and good natured teasing but she knew the instant they pulled onto Malcolm’s street; Momo stiffened slightly, his unease slithering between them like an icy wind. The car rolled to a stop, pounding music flooded the space between the house and the car, causing him tightened his grip on the steering wheel, making the vinyl groan in protest. 

“Do you want me-“ She began but he interjected with a quick snap of his head, “No, call me for a ride. I’ll make sure there is dinner waiting for you in the microwave.” Kyra sighed softly before leaning over and brushing a kiss along his cheek. “I love you, Mo.” He tugged lightly at her braid, “I love you too, baby girl, and stay safe.” As always, Momo waited for her to go into the pitiful little hovel before driving off. 

The moment she entered the house, Kyra wished that she had chosen to stay in the car. A mass of unwashed bodies overflowed the little dwelling, a mad crush of sweat and delirium. The smell of drugs, sex, and filth caused bile to burn in the back of her throat as she pushed through the swarm into the kitchen. 

“Ky!” Her cousin exclaimed, throwing her arms around Kyra’s neck, slopping her beer all over herself in the process. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re here. Here,” Audrey shoved something strongly reeking of blood near her face, “You’ve got to try this shit. It’s so fucking good.” 

“That’s okay, Audi.” Kyra stated, slowly untangling herself from her cousin; knowing how volatile she could be in a state like this. She took a small step back, “You know I can’t do stuff like that. It’ll make me sick.” 

Audrey pouted then let out a peel of high pitched laughter before falling back onto Malcolm’s lap. “You’re so fucking lame, Ky. It’s nothing but stick up ass with you. People would like you more if you just loosened the fuck up once in a while. Hell, this shit will probably get rid of those nasty scars all over your face. Seriously, you look like a fucking animal clawed off half your face.” 

“Love you too, Audi,” Kyra muttered darkly, maneuvering towards the basement door. Charlie quickly stepped in front of her, roping an arm around her hips, hauling against his stench laden body. “I want to fuck you.” His hand grabbed onto her backside like a lifeline. Her eyes snapped with fire as she pushed at him, “Let me go, Charlie,” She snarled, “Or I’m going to break your nose again.” 

I like it rough, baby.” A dark noise rumbled low in her chest as his hand began clawing at the loose waistband of her pants. She slammed her elbow against his sternum causing the him to stumble back. Charlie roared drunkenly with laughter, Kyra quickly took his distraction to slip through the door and down the stairs, stumbling in her haste. 

She rushed into the small cell; quickly shutting the distorted door behind her before allowing herself to take a breath. Eric was silent as she whipped her bag off, tossing it onto the dryer before stalking around the room for a moment as she tried to calm down. A few minutes later her hands had finally stopped shaking and she was able to gently pull his blindfold off. “Scared?” He finally asked when she tripped over his foot as she moved to get him a bottle of True Blood. 

A small, bitter puff of laughter came from her as she opened the bottle with a vicious twist. “Livid.” Kyra corrected darkly, “I should have broken that prick’s nose again.” She set the bottle aside, crossing her arms as she glared at the floor. 

“Again?” 

“He tried the same crap during the homecoming dance my junior year.” She said, shoving at those stray curls that had managed to come loose from her braid. “He grabbed my ass, I broke his nose. You would think that he learned his lesson, but I suppose that’s asking a lot from his little wombat brain.” 

Eric chuckled at her wording causing her to flash him a saucy smile. She perked up suddenly, “Oh, right, I thought of something last night.” 

“Yes, I do look better naked.” 

Kyra stopped digging around in her bag to glance questioningly at him. “You must be feeling better.” He shook his head, “No, I’m fucking bored.” She rolled her eyes before pulling a small baggie from her purse. “Ignoring that creepy detour, you mentioned before that you usually drank donor blood.” 

“It’s not always willingly donated but continue.” He stated. She turned towards him, looking somewhat shocked, “Seriously, what has gotten into you tonight? Normally, I have to pry your mouth open with a crowbar to get one syllable answers from you. I’m pretty sure this is the longest conversation we’ve had. Are you dying?” 

Eric snorted, “I’m bored and, sadly, you are the only thing here that offers any semblance of conversation. You annoy me but it’s, at least, better than talking to the water heater.” She huffed at him but a smile toyed on the edge of her lips, “I’m glad to see that my original assessment of you wasn’t wrong. You’re a complete and utter ass-clown with a healthy dose of pompous douche.” 

“I doubt you’d say that to me if I wasn’t chained down.” He said with a dangerous smile. Kyra laughed at him, “You don’t know me well. I’d have no issue calling you names no matter the circumstances. Can I get back to the original topic now or would you like to continue with this witty banter?” 

“By all means.” 

She rolled her eyes again, “Anyways, you said you didn’t like True Blood,” She fished a small paring knife from the baggie, “So, I had an idea. I thought that I could mix a little bit of my blood with the True Blood and maybe it wouldn’t taste so bad.” 

He was stunned by her offer, his fangs sliding out at the mere thought of real blood. Though he would never admit it, he had come to rely on her visits, on her ridiculous conversations, to keep him grounded, to ease the madness that clung to the walls of the room like ghosts. She had done everything in her power to alleviate his some of his discomfort, her stupid little stories offering a reprieve from his torture. 

He could see how drained she was, both physically and emotionally. Dark circles darkened her eyes and she was far too pale for someone who still had a beating heart. Exhaustion hung around her like a cloak but she didn’t seem to notice, her attention focused solely on him and his needs. Eric had spent much of their time together trying to figure out what she wanted, what she was expecting from him; if she was, in anyway, deceiving him. He hadn’t been able to sense a hidden motive in her actions, there weren’t any agendas, nothing but her need to save him. And now she was offering him her blood simply because he despised the taste of True Blood.   
She was either one hell of an actress or the first person that he had very met in his millennia long existence that didn’t act in self-interest. 

Kyra chewed gently on her lower lip as he continued to silently study her, the weight of his gaze making her tug at the hem of her tank top. “It was just an idea, I mean-“   
“You would do something like that?” He asked, cutting her off. She smiled gently at him, “Eric, if it would help you while you’re stuck in this horror-fest, then I have no issue with it. It’s just a little bit of blood, after all, I mean, I would even let you feed from me if you’re more okay with that.” 

“No,” He snapped, taking her back. Between the silver, the draining, and the lack of sleep, Eric knew he’d drink her dry. And, for whatever strange reason, he didn’t like the idea of killing her like that. Kyra felt as he battled against his hunger, she knew then that she could trust him; that he wasn’t the devouring monster that the ratty little papers claimed his kind to be. “Okay,” She said, moving to the drain that the water heater pumped into; dumping some of the True Blood. 

Kyra felt his eyes follow her as she reached for the knife, straining against his bonds when she sliced open her palm after a moment’s hesitation. A feral growl bubbled in his throat as she allowed her blood to stream into the bottle. 

The smell of fresh blood nearly undid him, punching him in the chest. The chains were all that was saving her life in this moment, the beast in him roaring, clawing at his insides until he burned with need. Eric thought he knew hunger, had reign over his baser instincts; but, right now, he was nothing more than a starving animal. The growl that came from him was primal, reverberating around the room until Kyra could feel it in her bones.

A tingle of fear slithered down her spine as she quickly swiped an alcohol swab over the stinging wound. She wrapped her hand tightly in gauze, awkwardly tightening the knot with her teeth before using a straw to mix the drink. Kyra inhaled shakily as she turned her attention to him, feel his primordial need as he continued to strain against the silver; his flesh hissing and popping as the chains melted deeper. 

“Eric, honey, you’ve got to calm down a little.” Her words didn’t seem to have any sort of effect. Kyra swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t know what else to do, so she kept talking, “I kind of had a bad day today.” Her voice wavered as a shudder rolled through his statuesque form. She swallowed again, her voice stronger, “I suppose it wasn’t horrible, I mean, I wasn’t hit by a car or anything but it just wasn’t what I hoped it was going to be. I wasn’t expecting fireworks or anything but Friday is the only day I have off during the week and I guess I wanted it to be a little more exciting than it was.” 

He was panting now, sitting back heavily in the chair, his body still tense. “It was productive, at least, even though I slept really late. I, at least, paid the bills that needed to be paid; now, Momo and I will have running water for another month; that’s good, right? I stopped by a music store too while I was out. Fortuna, do you know it? It’s super expensive, but they have the best instruments in the entire city. I don’t know why I stopped it, just dreaming, I suppose. I left feeling worse than when I went in.”   
“Why?” He breathed the word out between great lungful gasps of air even though he didn’t require them. Eric was shaking with the effort it took to re-cage his beast. Her absurd ramblings pulling him back from the brink, the musical lilt of her voice breaking through the red fog that had filled his mind. 

“I fell in love with a seven thousand dollar violin.” She admitted softly. “I have a violin; I have a lot of instruments at home actually, expect like a tuba or a drum kit, anything big and super noisy. I don’t think my neighbors would like that too much. I do have an old piano, though, and that’s pretty big but it’s not really all that noisy, so, I guess that’s okay. I like the violin the best though, out of everything that I play, I love the violin the most. But the one I have is old and super cheap; I bought it like ten years ago from a second hand shop and it’s starting to get too old to play, the sound is distorted and off. I’ve wanted to get a new one for a while now but I have like zero wiggle room in my account. Are you okay now? I can keep going.” 

“In the name of God, don’t.” Eric stated sharply. Kyra let out a relieved laugh. She gestured to the abandoned bottle, “Want to try this again? You’re not going to attack me or anything if I get too close, are you?” 

He shook his head and she slowly moved to his side, kneeling next to him. “Closer,” He insisted when she held the bottle too far away. “Oh,” She said, moving it forward, “At least I didn’t poke you in the eye with it like last time.” 

Eric ignored her, swallowing down the True Blood in gulps. Her blood did nothing to mask the rancid taste but slammed into his stomach none the less, firing through his body like a crack of lightening. His ravenous cells soaked up her blood and he felt a small piece of his strength returning to him. He leaned back when he drained the bottle, feeling as her blood coursed through his veins. 

She set the bottle on the floor, looking up at him with those smoky eyes, “Feeling better?” He locked his gaze with hers, using the small return of his power to glamour her. “Undo the chains.” 

Kyra tilted her head to the side, her heavy braid falling over her shoulder. She felt something shifting in her brain, as if her mind was suddenly filled with a hazy mist. A part of her wanted to obey him; it made sense to let him go, didn’t it? The logical part of her mind quickly came forward, rapidly listing all the reasons why that was such a bad idea.

She shook her head, picking up the bottle and standing. “You know I can’t do that, Eric.” She dropped the empty bottle in the barrel, wiping her hands on her pants before turning back towards him. “Yes, I could let you go and you could go and kill everyone up there after drinking me dry but, despite the fact that everyone up there is retarded, the majority of them are innocent. I will help you escape but I won’t help you murder people. You gave me your word that you would wait until Malcolm and others left for Dallas.” 

“How did you do that?” Eric asked, disbelief darkening his voice. “What are you talking about?” She stated, leaning back against the dryer, “I didn’t do anything.” 

“Are you related to someone named Sookie Stackhouse?” 

Kyra regarded him with a confusion, “No, I don’t think so. The only people that I’m related to down here, that I know of anyways, is my Aunt and Audrey. Why?” 

“What are you?” 

“Eric, are you okay? I mean, what kind of question is that? I’m naturally a human.” 

“You can’t be.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because I can glamour humans.” 

“Are you serious? You just tried to glamour me? What the actual hell, Eric!” He ignored her seething words, “My strength must not have returned like I thought it did.”   
Kyra stiffened, looking outraged. Her hand dropped to her hip, “You’re a complete ass, you know that? I can’t be glamoured, you dog.” Eric looked at her then, his eyes narrowing, “Why?” 

“Oh my God, Eric,” She snapped, “Because I’m blind.”


	5. Chapter Five

“Blind?” Eric stated, his shrewd gaze narrowed on her face. “As in, you can’t see?”  The glare she sent him could have melted cement, “That is the general definition of the word.” He studied her, recounting all of their encounters over the last week, never once, in all their time together, had he ever entertained the idea that she could have been blind. He just figured she had weakened eyesight like the rest of her miserable species.

Kyra leaned back against the dryer, the rusted lip biting annoyingly into the small of her back. She knew Eric was staring at her, could feel his shock and confusion. Her anger towards him quickly melted away, shame taking its place. People always stared at her like that when they found out, they treated her differently; like, somehow, she was deficient. She hated feeling like this.

The moment someone figured out she was blind; they instantly changed, acting like she was suddenly incapable of doing anything on her own. It drove her insane. Momo was the only person who treated her normally, allowing her the small amount of independence and freedom she could manage without her sight. Hell, even her Aunt acted like she was made of glass whenever she visited. 

“How?” He finally asked a few lengthy moments later. She sighed, toying with the end of her braid, “Car crash when I was eight. My parents were taking me to a movie and a drunk driver hit us. Our car rolled five times before wrapping around a tree. I was thrown through the back window, bashing my head against the tree before landing in the ditch. Paramedics found me on the side of the road, my face slashed up from the glass, my throat nearly torn out, and I couldn’t see.

“I woke up in the hospital three weeks later and the doctor explained to me that my optic nerves were damaged and blood had pooled in my brain, causing a part of it to swell. I was never going to see again. I was in that hospital for four months while the rest of my body healed and the whole time I was there I kept hoping that I would wake up and be able to see again.”

“And now?”

She shrugged, “It’s been fifteen years, I’m pretty much use to it by now.”

“You don’t use any assistance.” Eric pointed out after a few minutes of silence. Kyra smiled bitterly, “You mean like a walking cane or a dog? No, no I don’t. I never really have, actually. I tried a cane for a while, when I was younger, but I kept tripping over it. I figured I fell enough as it was and stopped using it.”

He studied her, taking her in defensive stance, the pensive look she was giving him; as if the little blood bag was waiting for him to start mocking her. Eric felt a sudden wall being built between them, felt as she withdrew into her own mind; it was a protection mechanism that she must have perfected throughout the years. Humans were cruel to those they perceived as weak, and she seemed very use to the condemnation of others.

Normally, he would irritated by the fact that such a damaged and enfeebled human such as her was his only chance at freedom but he couldn’t bring himself to see her as such. The warrior in him begrudgingly acknowledged her, her strength of character, her value. No, she wasn’t weak; she was a force of nature that commanded allegiance. Eric knew that she would do anything, everything, to free him; even lose her life in the process if it was demanded as tribute. No, this girl wasn’t weak.

“How are you able to get around like you do?” Eric asked. She shrugged, her head tilting to the side, the braid swinging like a pendulum behind her. “Photographic memory, for lack of a better term. Once I’ve been somewhere I’m able to recall a mental map of where everything is at. My hearing is quiet good as well, I’m able to judge where people are just by the sounds they make. Like, I know that you’re little over six steps away going off of the sound of the chains against the wood; but, the water heater, I’m assuming is a little over eight steps away. Assuming, though, usually means I’ll run into something or trip. It’s hard to be accurate with no depth perception.”

Eric prompted, “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting, Mr. Northman?” She asked with a bemused smile, “Magic? Sonar perhaps? I’m nothing special, Eric. Just ordinary, if anything, my blindness is that only unique thing I can claim.” He rolled his eyes, humility was so boring.

Just then the basement door shrieked, Kyra’s attention snapping towards the sound as thundering footsteps navigated drunkenly down the stairs. She grabbed the blindfold, slipping it over his eyes just as the door swung open. Malcolm, Audrey, and two swaying tarts stumbled in to the room. “Holy fucking crap,” One of the tarts trilled, elbowing Kyra out of the way to run a dirtied hand through Eric’s hair. “He’s fucking gorgeous.”  

“I heard sex with a vampire is the best sex you’ll ever get.” The other one stated, sliding her hand down his chest. “It’s a shame that he’s all chained up like this. I’d love to get a taste of him.”

Eric sneered at the two girls, lunging against the chains. They jumped nervously but continued to fawn over him, sliding against him. The chains shifted, digging deeper, the smell of burnt flesh invading Kyra. “Stop it.” She demanded, yanking one of the hussies away, “You’re hurting him.” The girl slapped at her before pressing herself against Eric’s thigh. 

“Back off, bitch,” Malcolm slurred, slipping a knife into his hand, “These girls just wanted a taste from the source.” He slashed open both Eric’s forearms, ignoring the vampire’s hiss. The two girls sank to their knees and began moaning and writhing as they lapped at the pooling blood. He handed the knife to Audrey who sashayed behind the chair, glancing at her cousin before leaning over and running her tongue alone his neck. Eric snarled at her but Audrey only laughed as she twisted the tip of the blade into his neck, sucking at the bleeding wound.

Kyra tried to reach Eric but Malcolm cut her off, shoving her into the wall; caging her there. His arm pressed tightly into her throat, forcing her to take small, shallow breaths. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, whore?” He asked, his sour breath caressing her cheek.

“You’re hurting him.” She fought to get the words out, her lungs beginning to burn. Malcolm just laughed, spittle flying from his lips. “Why the fuck do you care? You got a hard on for the vamper?” He dug his arm deeper into her throat, sealing off her windpipe. “You a fang banger, bitch? That’s why you’re such a cold bitch, isn’t it? You only like dead peckers in your pussy, don’t you? Couldn’t handle a real fucking man. With a face like yours no living guy would want you, not surprised that you have to go to these dead fucks to get off.”

His free hand clamped painfully onto her breast, twisting the soft flesh until an agonizing sound was torn from her. “Bitches like you fucking piss me off. Think you’re so fucking better than everyone else.” He gave her breast one last excruciating jerk before shoving his hand down her pant, his dirty fingers clawing that the tender flesh. “I’m going to enjoy fucking your stuck up ass. And then, I’m going to take your ass upstairs and pass you around like the cheap whore you are.”

Terror flooded her system as his hand dug at her trying to push past her underwear; she knew that he fully intended to carry out his heinous plan. Her lungs were screaming for air as static began filling her mind. Kyra pried a hand off of his arm, tearing at his face with her nails; desperately trying to claw the prick’s eye out. She must have done some form of damage because the creature let out a blood-curdling roar, tearing his arm from her throat to slam his fist into the corner of her eye.

Her head shot back, cracking into the cinderblock wall. For a moment, she actually saw stars, bright pops and flashes of color that shimmered in front of her eyes before her head felt as if it was underwater. The noise around her was muffled, Malcolm was screaming at her but she couldn’t understand the words. One hand was fisted in her tank top, holding her up while the other fell like a hammer, pounding into her face and head. Kyra meekly tried to fend off the blows but her arms weren’t obeying her commands, uselessly trying to protect herself.

“Baby,” Audrey cooed, curling herself around his pulled back arm. “Let’s go upstairs. I think these girls are looking for a different kind of entertainment now. Besides, this little sow is done.” Sure enough, the other girls were running their hands along each other’s body, moaning as they rubbed themselves together.

Malcolm inhaled sharply as Audrey’s hand cupped him through his baggy jeans. He flung Kyra to the floor, her head bouncing against the concrete, before allowing himself to be pulled from the room. She lay silently on the floor, her battered body raging at her as she tried to force the ringing in her ears to dissipate. Minutes, maybe years, later she finally pulled herself into a sitting position, her knees drawn tightly against her chest as she rested her forehead against them.

Eric growled, his fangs like daggers, as he listened to her battle to breathe. He could smell her blood and it enraged him, fueling his fury until it nearly consumed him. The little human had valiantly tried to defend him but was unable to stand against a man twice her size and three times her weight and she had been brutalized because of it. He had planned just to tear Malcolm’s head from his body but, now, he was going to make him suffer, making him pay for every moment.

“Are you all right?” She asked, her voice was muffled but he could hear the raggedly painful words, he could almost feel the harsh burn that must have accompanied them. How like her, nearly beaten to death and almost raped but her concern was still, always, him. “Worry about yourself, little human.” Eric remarked.

“I’m fine.”

“You sound like it.”

Kyra let out a little huff of a laugh, instantly wincing as a biting pain flared in her throat like acid. She was hurting, her face swelling as her chest burned, the soft flesh bruising and she didn’t even want to think about the aching discomfort between her legs. Long sleepless night filled with trauma and nightmares awaited her but, right now, all she wanted was to hear him laugh. “What do you know, anyways?” She asked, “You went to clown college.”

Eric’s head snapped around, “What?”

“You went to clown college.” She stated, a weak smile toying with her bloody, torn lips. “That’s how you got turned. You were mad that the ringleader of the circus wouldn’t let you become a clown so you went to clown college and your professor, Honkers, turned you as a graduate present. You specialized in balloon animals and you still have your first pair of oversized shoes and you ride on a red tricycle to get to late night birthday parties. Oh, and your stage name is Squeakers.”

There it was; that deep, velvety laugh. Chills prickled over her skin as she smiled. “Is this how you handle trauma,” He asked, “Making up wild, completely untrue stories?”

“I don’t know it’s not right,” She continued, the teasing lightening the lilt in her voice, “You never told me how you ended up as a vampire so my wild imagination has to fill in the blanks somehow, Squeakers.”     

“Shameless,” Eric said with a chuckle, “Completely fucking shameless. I can assure you that I haven’t, and never will be, a clown.”

Kyra laughed then, “I suppose a Viking warrior does fit you better.” She slowly made her way over to him, her hand resting atop his as she slid the blindfold off, “Though the idea of you trolling around on a tricycle does make me smile.”

 His fangs exploded into his mouth again as he saw the damaged done to her, looking as if she had been hit by a car. The outrage he had felt towards her somehow finding out about his past died instantly. Her full lips were split, blood discoloring the whiteness of her teeth, the crimson liquid dripped from her ear and nose. One eye was swollen shut while dark smudges ringed the other. Her clothes were torn and soiled, her hair wild. She offered him a small smile, resting her cheek against his arm, making sure not to disturb the chains; her only sign of discomfort.

Physical contact usually annoyed him, only Pam was allowed to touch him without permission; and even then it was rarely. When humans usually pawed at him, they wanted sex or money, often times both. But with her, as he had come to expect, she wanted nothing; not sex, money, blood, nothing but a moment of comfort, a moment of reprieve from her pain. Comfort was something foreign to him, something he had rarely received in his many long years; and something he had no idea how to give.

“I’m sorry,” He managed, the words tasting bitter on his tongue, “That this happened to you.” Her eye fluttered closed, her sigh momentarily warming his flesh. “No, Eric, I’m sorry. I’m so, so very sorry that you’ve had to endure this. And I’m sorry that I can’t defend you. I really did try.”

He let the silence unfold between them, her soft heartbeat a whisper beneath the pounding music and the groans of animal passion from above. Here, something innocent sprang from brutality; it wasn’t attraction but understanding, admiration; a bond forged through fire and pain. In a thousand years, he would be able to recall this moment in every vivid detail; it was forever burned into his mind.

“My blood can heal you.” Eric stated. Kyra instantly shook her head, groaning softly as the small movement caused her mind to swim, “I’ve seen was V does to people, Eric. I’d rather be in pain for the next few days.”

Eric nodded towards the slowly healing cut on his arm, “You’ll only need a small amount. Weakness, little human, is the main reason your pathetic species gets addicted. A weakness I know you don’t have.”

“Mr. Northman, I do believe that you just gave me a compliment.” She teased. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Eric commanded, “Now drink.”

Kyra grew still, the very tip of her finger caressing against the nearly healed cut. She tucked a loch of her hair behind her ear before, very gently, lapping at the wound. She had steeled herself for the metal taste of copper but it was something entirely different; something she could have never prepared herself for. It tasted like honeyed mead, salty like an ocean spray, of a roaring fire, and cold winters. A thousand years of emotions, thoughts, and experiences flood her being, until she was unsure where she stopped and he began. Kyra instantly understood the reason that people did V, it was a feeling that she would never forget.

Eric groaned deep in his chest as that little tongue lapped at him again. Sultry night filled his mind, nights complete with breathy groans and nails biting into his skin; until he was drunk from the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. Long nights, multiple nights because he knew, if he had her once, it was never going to be enough. 

She gently pulled away, hearing his pants, feeling her own. Dangerous territory, the kind that claimed and changed lives, that’s where she had just innocently wandered. Gingerly, her fingers skimmed her face, the gnawing pain was gone, the aches from the bruises, the discomfort of her flesh; gone, vanished. Heat spread through her, a low burning but undeniable heat, until even the feel of her clothing was too much, the tickling of her hair against her skin. A blush splashed across her cheeks as she wet her lips, causing Eric to groan again.

“Well, that was a nifty trick.” Kyra stated, slowly backing away. She felt Eric’s heated gaze like a tangible caress, could feel a different kind of hunger coming off of him. Distance was the best option. “I-um- didn’t realize how amazing it really was. I’m not going to have any weird side effects, am I? Like an unnatural need for a rare steak or a need to hang out with bats.”

Eric licked a fang, a wolfish smile gracing his face. “There are few side effects but nothing like that. Your physical senses will be enhanced for a while but, I don’t think, you’ll even notice. The blood will act like a tie between the two of us. I will feel what you feel, be able to sense where you are.”

“So, everyone that has drank your blood, you’re tied to them?”

He rolled his eyes, “For a while at least, as of late, the number seems to have increased.” Kyra glanced at the ceiling, “Yeah, I bet it has.” A metallic voice suddenly sounded from her purse, informing that a new text message from Momo was waiting. She turned away from him, digging for her phone before it read the message to her. Momo was out, picking up their dinner and wanted to come and get her. She glanced back at him, “Would you mind if I skipped out a little early tonight?”

Eric shook his head, “Until, tomorrow.” Kyra quickly packed up her purse, dumping the knife and medical supplies into the bucket before tugging the blindfold over his eyes. She paused for a moment, leaning down to brush a hesitant kiss against his hair. “Goodnight, Eric the Viking, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His voice caused her to still in the doorway, chocolate smooth and full of dark promises, “Goodnight, little human. Sweet dreams.”    

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so terrible that I haven't updated this in awhile. I want to thank all the people who have commented and given kudos for this story. Thank you for not giving up on this!   
> Please enjoy!  
> Pixie

That dog, that stupid dog, was barking again. Seriously, didn’t it have anything better to do beside wake her from an amazing sleep? Kyra groaned, pulling the warm furs tighter around her bare shoulders as she fought to keep her eyes from opening; if she opened them than she’d have to admit to being awake. And that simply wasn’t fair; she was far too warm and far too comfortable to get up.

“Damn that dog,” She snapped, rolling onto her back with a disgruntled huff. Kyra shoved herself up, keeping the furs wrapped around her as she propped herself up against the intricately carved headboard. The fire still burned softly in the stone fireplace, bathing the room in a soft, warm, cozy light. She could hear dinner being served in the hall, the men boasting and laughing about their last raid.

The door to her room swung open and Eric strolled in; his blond hair glittering like spun gold in the muted light. “My beautiful shield maiden has finally awakened.” She pouted at him for a moment before laughing, “Unwillingly.” Kyra tossed her head back, her curls soaring around her, “I’ve missed you, my Viking warrior. I don’t like going to sleep in this large bed all by myself. I’m very angry that you left me.”

“Are you now?” Eric stated, his hands pulling his cloak and clothing off before stalking across the bed towards her. His hand clamped around her ankle, pulling her onto her back. He loomed over her, every inch the Viking warlord that he was. He tore the fur from her clutching hand, her pale skin smooth and silken as he trailed a hand from her throat between her full breasts to rest on her flat stomach. “I promise you by the end, my little beauty, that you will no longer be angry with me.”

She smiled at him, her fingers threading through his hair. He growled, his mouth claiming hers with a kiss that was meant to brand the soul. Eric laid siege to her mouth, his tongue sweeping along hers, tasting every corner of her sweet mouth. He pulled back along enough for her to breathe before demanding her lips again.

Her breast filled his palm, her nipple tightening against his callous hand. Eric chuckled, toying with the small bud, pulling a stuttering gasp from her. “You always respond so honestly. Tell me,” He turned his attention to her other breast, licking his fingers before rolling it between them. It was just enough to have her arching against him, her pussy convulsing as liquid heat flowed from it “Are you still mad at me?”

Kyra’s head kicked back when his mouth closed over the taunt nipple sucking hard. His tongue flickered over it like a wild flame. The heat from the fire raged around her, echoing through her, ripped through her womb and exploded through her body as he sucked at her breast, nipped at her nipple, and tortured her with a pleasure she could not have imagined existed.

 “Yes, Eric. I’m still mad at you.” He smiled against her flesh, raking his teeth along her ribs before lapping at her navel. “Then, little beauty, I will have to try harder.”

He slid down, his broad shoulders pushing her legs apart. He lapped at her smooth skin of her thigh, nipping sharply as he roped an arm over her hips to keep her still. “I have missed you, Kyra.” Eric murmured against her core as she groaned his name. He grinned at her, making sure she was watching as his tongue flicked against her clit; she cried out, her hands twisting at the furs. His tongue swiped through her tender flesh as a growl of pleasure tore from his throat as his tongue circled her clit before moving lower to lap at the liquid heat flowing from her body.

Her thighs tightened as the wicked tongue moved over her flesh, his destructive lips sucking her clit between them. He flicked at it with his tongue before moving lower, lifting her, and then driving inside the greedy depths of her body.  Her body tightened, arched further as her head fell back, her lips opening as cries tore from her throat as Eric drove his tongue into her clenching depths again.

He drew back, his lips latching onto her clit again, flicking his tongue against in in hard, rough strokes. Her heart beating like thunder in her chest as her lungs sawed for air. Then one hard male finger slid past the soft folds of skin. His mouth suckled her clit faster, his finger pushing inside her, filling her, burning her as he added another. Eric curled his fingers inside of her, his tongue a brutal lashing heat against her clit, driving her higher; bringing her just to the edge but pulling away at the last moment, his blue eyes glittering at her broken wail of distress as he licked his lips. “Tell me, are you still mad?”

“I am going to kill you.” Kyra promised, her fingers tugging at his hair. “I will rip your arms from your body if you keep toying with me.”

He laughed at her breathy threats, knowing his little spite-fire was capable of carrying them out. His lips moved back to her straining clitoris, he plunged two fingers quickly into the weeping depths of her pussy. She exploded fast, arching and shuddering as her cries filled his ears. He gave her only seconds to peak and begin the gentle slide down before he moved his fingers again, driver her back over the edge before starting again.

Eric slid his brutally aching cock into her as her last climax started, loving the feeling of her core tightening around him. She whimpered, her nails biting into his back, little licks of pain that drove his need higher. “By the end of this night,” He said, drawing out only to slam back into her weeping heat, “You will have no doubts who has claimed you, who your mate is. You will never been free of me.”

The annoying blare of her alarm clock shot Kyra up in her bed, the sheets nothing but a twisted mess around her legs. She shakily wiped at her brow, groaning at the pleasure that had coiled in the pit of her stomach, the ache between her legs. “Oh for the love of God,” she moaned, drawing her knees against her chest. “It’s been five freaking days, when is this going to stop? And that jerk knows that I’m having them too, I can hear in his smug little jerky voice every night.”

“Baby girl,” Momo said, opening her door with a knock. “If you done freaking out about your crazy sex dreams, you’re first lesson is in the music room. I told him five minutes.”

Kyra flung the covers away with a sigh, running a hand down her face. Momo watched with amusement as his roommate tore into her closest, muttering the entire time. She finally held up a dark flowing purple top and a pair of skinny jeans, “Does this match?”

He nodded, “Yeah, here let me get you a tank top to go underneath it. Or else you’ll be giving that vampire of yours a show.” She rolled her eyes as she yanked off her pajamas to pull on the jeans and twisting into a black bra. “Why are you laughing?” Kyra snapped, taking the tank top he offered, “Nothing is funny about this.”

“Wild hot sex dreams with a vampire? Yeah, there’s nothing funny about that. I’ve never seen anyone get under your skin like this before, Ky. Here, you need a scarf with that.” He wrapped a long silver scarf around her neck. “Perfect. I know today is the big day and you asked me to stay out of it, but, if you need me, I’m only a phone call away.”

She flopped onto her bed, tugging on a pair of calf high soft leather boots before running a hand through her hair, the curls flying wildly around her shoulders, flowing down her waist. “Mo, we’ve been over this, the farther you stay away from this the better. I’m going to Fangtasia a few hours before sunset to talk to Eric’s progeny, Pam. Everything will be fine, after tonight Eric will be back to his life and mine can get back to normal. Assuming my throat doesn’t get ripped out in the process.”

“Not funny, Ky.” Momo snapped, pinning her with a harsh glare. “Don’t even joke about that.” Kyra stood, running a hand along his cheek, “I’ll be just fine, Mo. Everything will turn out okay. I’ve got to get to my lesson.”

She paused, glancing back at him, “I love you, Momo, you know that, right?” He came forward, pulling her into his arms, “I love you, Kyra, there isn’t enough words to describe how much I love you. Stay safe, baby girl. Stay safe for me.”

Kyra flashed him a small smile before joining Ethan in the music room. She instantly engaged the boy in witty conversation before having him begin his scales. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her mind on the lesson, the shaky notes and broken cords only added to the chaos of her thoughts. As much as she joked about it, she was terrified for tonight, that something would go wrong.

Audrey had promised to call her when they left, which was supposed to be sometime later this afternoon, but she had a feeling that after the long week of partying; they wouldn’t be leaving until closer to nightfall. Her cousin knew something was going on between her and Eric, she could hear it in her voice whenever Malcolm wasn’t around; it wasn’t suspicion or anger but was, instead, extreme fear; as if she knew what their plan was.

Kyra had considered what Malcolm would do once he found Eric gone, a constant nagging concern in the back of her mind. She accidently let her fears slip to Eric a few nights ago but they were quickly dispelled when he savagely vowed that Malcolm wouldn’t be given the chance at retaliation. Her vampire’s ruthlessly spoken promises should have scared her, but it didn’t. Instead, they reassured her; Eric was nothing if not a man of his word.

He seemed to have opened up to her these last few days, their conversations more flowing than before. He didn’t offer much about himself, as was his usual, but he would answer her more general questions. Eric’s favorite color was blue, preferred reading over watching movies, and liked the rain more than snow. He spoke hesitantly about his past, giving only a few personal details. She learned, after much persistence, that his maker’s name was Godric and that he was the Sheriff of the Dallas area and Pam was his only progeny.

Her vampire was a walking history book, making the past come alive for her. Eric told her of the Viking raids, the Wild West, the Third Reich, of all the wars and wonders he had experienced and seen over the last thousand years. He would tolerate her endless questions to a certain point before snapping at her, cursing her and her insatiable curiosity. Kyra had learned to take his abrasive attitude in stride; his abrupt anger did little other than make her smile, which only made him angrier until she offered some kind of apology.

 He had inquired about her past as well, and she answered every question he posed; even when they were painful. She couldn’t explain it, but she had the strangest desire for him to know everything about her, an urge that she couldn’t push aside; so, she told him everything. Her life before the crash, her parents, of her teenage dreams and desires, her passionate love of music, what college had been like, the first time she had met Momo; no topic was off limits. Kyra knew that she would only be the smallest footnote in his life, if he chose to remember her at all, so, she saw no harm in letting him see what her life was like.

Eric had mainly made snide remarks after her answers or stories, commenting on how narrow-minded and simple humans were, oftentimes comparing them to some form of farm animal. And, she supposed, that the day to day lives of humans were boring to someone who had lived through as much history as Eric had; what was a car crash to him when he had seen empires crumble, entire countries wiped out by plague, and the world ravaged by war? He certainly made a knack for making her feel worthless, nothing but a speck of dust on history’s mantle.

But, there were also moments, though very few, that he would commend her, gifting her with a few soft spoken words of praise. They were so out of place with his rough nature that she never commented on them but those few words meant more to her than they should have; making her feel as if she actually meant something to the vampire. Which was a completely ridiculous notion, she knew that she didn’t mean anything to Eric nor should she. Nonetheless, she was unable to contain her feelings: she wanted to mean something to him; she wanted him to remember her.

God, she was such a child at times.

Kyra shook her head, clearing her mind of the idiotic direction it was taking; focusing again on Ethan as he plucked his tiny guitar. She had always been too practical to be a dreamer, too busy to waste time on wishful scenarios. And she wouldn’t allow herself to start now just because Eric Northman had strolled into her life.

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearly seven when Kyra finally reached Fangtasia, the normally packed parking lot devoid of life. She stood motionless for a few moments as the cab drove off. Eric had informed her that Pam was able to rise about an hour before the sunset and the bar would be the best place to find her and even if she wasn’t there a human worker named Ginger would know how to get ahold of her.

Steeling herself for the worse, Kyra slowly made her way towards the entry way, chewing softly on her lower lip. She let out a small curse when she rammed into a pole holding up the black awning, viciously rubbing at her shoulder as she finally located the door. She pounded against the wood, hoping the soft, buttoned material just didn’t absorb the noise.

The door swung open so suddenly that Kyra had to yank herself back. “Can I help you?” A female asked, “The bar is closed for the time being and even if it wasn’t, with this being a vampire bar and all, we don’t open until after dark.”

“I’m looking for Pam.” Kyra quickly stated, grabbing ahold of the thick door as the woman tried to close it. “Pam doesn’t want to see anyone right now.” The woman said, glancing over her shoulder. “She’s not in a very good mood right now.”

Kyra exhaled darkly before simply pushing passed the tiny woman into the bar, nearly knocking the skinny thing over. “I’m sorry but I really don’t have time for this.” She crossed her arms and leveled the woman with a harsh look, “Go and find Pam. Believe me, she’ll want to talk to me.” The woman scampered off as quickly as her heels would allow.

Kyra could hear raised voices coming from the direction that the woman that fled in, the words muffled but she was able to pick up the desperation and anger that accompanied them:

“You’ve been here for two days and you haven’t been able to find out anything.” A woman snapped, a slight accent coloring her words. “What the hell good are your stupid mind reading powers if you can’t do anything with them?” A man answered her, his drawl heavy. “That isn’t fair, Pam. Sookie has done everything she is able-“

“Which is shit,” Pam snarled, “She’s done shit! What the hell do you want, Ginger? A closed door usually fucking means not to enter.”

The woman stammered, her voice high with panic, “I’m sorry, Pam, but this girl forced her way in and she won’t leave until you talk to her.”

“I don’t have fucking time to deal with some whore looking for work-“ Pam started but Kyra cut her off, “I have information about Eric.” She felt silly yelling across the building but it seemed to be the only way that she was going to be able to talk to Pam.

But talking, it would seem, wasn’t what Pam had in mind. Not even a second after Kyra called out, a slim hand curled around her throat, her neck used to hold her body from the ground. “You have exactly ten seconds to tell me where Eric is before I rip your throat open. And believe me; I’m going to be pissed if I get blood on my new Jimmy Choo heels.”

“Pam,” A sweet southern voice said, “She can’t tell you anything if she can’t breathe.” Pam gave her a shake, her body snapping like a flag. Firework bursts of color exploded in Kyra’s eyes as she clawed at the slender fingers biting into her flesh, her lungs screaming as alarms sounded in her head. “Stay out of this, Sookie.”

The man tried, his hand clamping around Pam’s wrist, forcing it down a few inches so the tips of Kyra’s boots scraped at the floor. “If she’s dead she can’t tell us where Eric is. Let her go, Pam.”  With an extremely disgusted noise Pam dropped her, Kyra’s legs crumpling as she gasped for air.

She coughed; feeling as if her chest was filled with battery acid. Kyra wasn’t certain she was able to speak but she tried anyways, pushing herself onto her knees, “Drainers,” Oh, God, was that her voice? She sounded like she had just French kissed a blowtorch

Large gentle hands suddenly pulled her up, settling her into a chair, thrusting a glass of water into her hand. “Drink this.” The man order, “And then start over.” Kyra glanced warily in his direction but did as he commanded, the water extinguishing the fire in her throat.

“Eric was captured by drainers.” Kyra started but was cut off when Pam fisted a hand in her hair, snapping her head back, “You’re a drainer?”

“No, God, no,” She stated, “My cousin got mixed up with this guy back in high school. I only found out because I went over to his house to find her. I would never do anything like that.” Pam shoved her back, her head nearly hitting the table. Kyra swallowed hard, wetting her lips before shakily continuing, “I lied to them so they wouldn’t kill him, sneaking him True Blood so he wouldn’t die. I’ve been taking care of him for the last few days. They just left for Dallas so they could sell his blood there, they won’t be back for a while. Now is the only chance we’ll have at getting him out of there.”

“Is she telling the truth?” Pam asked Sookie, who was silent for a moment before nodding. “Why didn’t you just bring him here at nightfall?”

Kyra said, “There is no way that I could lift him. I’ve been giving him True Blood but he’s still really weak. Besides, I can’t drive.”

“Why?” The man asked. She sent him a dark look, “Does that really matter right now? Look, I need help. I can free him easily enough but there is no way that I can get him here without him killing someone or us getting caught. So, are you going to help me or not?”

Pam looked down at her, “And if I was to say no?” Kyra glared at her, her eyes narrowing in disgust, “I would say that you’re a cold heart fucking bitch and that Eric should have never changed you and then I would find another way to get him out of there. Let me make this perfectly clear: I will free him tonight, with your help or not. This God damn nightmare will end tonight. No one deserves the things that were done to him, and, I will do whatever it takes to end it. Now, can we cut this alpha bitch nonsense? I can tell how worried you are about him.”

“What’s the address?” Pam asked, a small smile tugging at her lips at the fiery little redhead’s bravado.

 

* * *

 

 

Kyra ran a hand down her face as she made her way to Malcolm’s door, wincing when her fingers brushed then tender flesh of her throat. She could practically feel the bruises forming and she adjusted her scarf so they were hidden.

She glanced towards the sky, feeling the sun start to sink, the air growing slightly cooler. Pam and the others would be here soon and she wanted to make sure that Eric was free of the silver before they came. Pam had been quiet agreeable once she had dropped the tough-girl act. It had been Sookie that caused the most drama, insisting that she and Bill, the man with the heavy drawl, came along to help. Pam had finally conceded with a few vicious and colorful names for the headstrong belle.

Kyra rolled her eyes at the thought of Sookie. There was something about that girl that just didn’t sit right with her, something that felt fake or maybe forced; there was just something. She was torn from her thoughts once she had pushed the door open. The smell of blood slammed into her as if she had walked into a physical wall; the whole house reeked of it.

Eric! Oh, God, Malcolm must have staked him before leaving.

    

    

                                      


End file.
